Bring Them Home
by RK-Striker-JK-5
Summary: A raid behind Quintesson lines uncovers Autobots thought lost. Prequel to 'The Elements of Harmony and Savior of Worlds'.
1. Chapter 1

_Early 2010, behind the Quintesson border_

* * *

 _Boom, boom, boom..._

Quintesson scientists darted about their laboratory, their tentacles spasming and waving in the air like reeds in a whirlwind. Two Judges floated amongst them, their faces looking all around at once. "How did the Autobots find out about this installation?" one asked, its Rage face speaking.

One of the scientists spoke up, its own voice even more high-pitched than usual. "We don't know! The utmost secrecy was used in the building and maintaining of this place!" He floated over to a table and the one of the primary experiments in the room. A tentacle reached out and pulled a lever down. "We _must_ secure our research and materials, or all of this will be for nothing!"

The entire room _shook_. Small chunks of the ceiling rained down, smashing vials and spilling iridescent liquid all over the floor. An Executioner glided in on repulsors built into its feet. "Our defense fleet in orbit has been smashed. Autobot _and_ human soldiers have landed just outside the base defenses and are advancing rapidly. Our Sharkticons are being wiped out."

The Scientist turned to the Executioner. "Impossible! The new upgrades and sheer numbers should have been enough to stem their advance! Why aren't they working?!"

The room shook. The main lights dimmed and turned off. Emergency lighting clicked on, but it flickered. "I do not know, but the fact remains. We will soon be overrun. And when they discover what we have done here, they will be merciful if they simply kill us."

* * *

Impactor rolled along, his Cybertronian-style tank mode belching plasma and firing off missiles at anything in front of him. "Stupid scrapping squidheads," he muttered. "Ultra Magnus' informant better be right about this!"

Several Sharkticons rushed him from his left flank, while others charged at him from the front. He managed to blow apart three of the ones directly in front of him, but they quickly surrounded him and began striking him with their maces. Impactor quickly transformed to robot mode, slicing at them with his hook-hand and continually firing from his main plasma cannon, now mounted on his right shoulder. While more Sharkticons were blown into small bits of debris, two of the Sharkticons grabbed his left arm, while three more pounced on his back. "Scrap you!" he shouted, managing to yank his arm free. The three behind him, however, managed to maintain their grip while others surrounded him. "Glitching upgrades..."

One of the Sharkticons suddenly toppled back, its head blown apart and orange smoke pouring from its neck stump. A soldier of the Earth Defense Command flew into the fray, clad from head to toe in blue-colored power armor. A rather large heavy laser cannon mounted to her waist spat a continuous stream of energy at the Sharkticons while her jetpack and shin-mounted maneuvering thrusters kept her out of their reach. A dozen more soldiers appeared, swarming over the Sharkticons like mechanical locusts. They targeted joints, their heads and any gaps in the armor with pinpoint accuracy. The ones grabbing Impactor's back let go, but they stood there, mouths open in confusion. One of them finally pulled a laser rifle out of a compartment in his bulbous body, but the arm, along with most of his upper torso, was blown apart by massed laser and missile fire.

Impactor half-smiled and nodded as the last of the Sharkticons were destroyed. He focused on the soldier wielding the heavy laser cannon who arrived first and accessed her armor's IFF transponder. "Thanks for the assist, Sergeant Carlo."

Chief Master Sergeant Verity Carlo grinned behind her faceplate, but she straightened up and saluted Impactor. "Not a problem. My squad and I were just passing through." The young Latino turned and looked down the battlefield at their main target, the Quintesson compound. "Whatever's in there better be worth a direct assault instead of just flattening it from orbit."

Impactor's optic sensors focused on the small cluster of onion-shaped domes and tapering spires a mile away. Their main shields had failed, but backups still cast a patchwork protection over it. Several laser batteries and pillboxes spat withering fire into the air, but almost as many were little more than smoking ruins. Scattered groups of Sharkticons and Allicons attacked anything that moved on the battlefield, but were being surrounded and cut down. Impactor thrust his hook out and pointed it at the compound. "Well, I'm curious, too. Let's say we knock the front door down and take a look." He strode forward. "Come on! Time to Wreck and Rule!"

The soldiers formed up alongside Impactor. Verity glanced up at him. "W-wait, does this mean we're honorary Wreckers?"

One of the others slapped his helmet with his gauntleted hand and slowly dragged it down his faceplate. "Jeez, Sarge. Can't you keep your fangirlism in check just _once_?"

"Stow it, O'Nion! We've got Sharkticons to gut. Wreck and Rule!"

* * *

Impactor grabbed a Sharkticon by the head and slammed it into the ground. He, fellow Wreckers Roadbuster and Springer, and soldiers from the Earth Defense Command were fighting just outside one of the largest domes. Bits and pieces of Sharkticons were scattered all around, along with more than a few crushed and mangled Quintessons.

Roadbuster's laser rifle blew apart two Allicons and he made his way to the dome's main doors. He glanced back at Springer as he disemboweled a Sharkticon with his helicopter blade. "Admit it," Roadbuster said, "this is better than doing paperwork back at the embassy on Earth."

Springer kicked the sparking chassis away and turned to Roadbuster. "Quite honestly? No, it's not. I could do with racing around with Blurr and Arcee or fishing with Hot Rod. Scrap, I don't even _mind_ the paperwork. Beats fighting, that's for sure!"

Several squadrons of EDC heavy fighters soared overhead. Impactor's comm system activated. _"Skull One to ground forces; aerial superiority has been achieved."_

Impactor walked up to the main door and looked it over. "Trilithium-steel, heavy hydraulics, the works."

Verity looked the fifty-foot tall double-doors over and let out a low whistle. "O'Nion might be able to hack the interface and-"

Springer stabbed the central seam with his sword, sinking it halfway in. He twisted it back and forth, shimmying a small gap open and allowing Impactor and Roadbuster to each grab a side. Their fingers dug into the metal as they pushed it open, the hydraulics screeching.

Verity stood there, jaw working a bit before she could finally speak. "O-or you could just do that." She looked away, cheeks red. "Damn, I forgot how _strong_ you guys could be, sometimes."

Springer turned back and knelt down in front of her. "As Wreck-Gar would say, we all ate our Wheaties today." He stood back up, laser cannon now in his other hand. "Stay close. We don't have any idea what – "

"Oh, NO! They're in! They'll kill us all!"

Springer's optics blinked off and on. "Okay..." He, Impactor and Roadbuster rushed in, weapons at the ready. He stopped short as his optic sensors took in the contents of the room. "Dear Primus!" He grabbed the nearest Quintesson with one hand and jabbed at it with his sword. "What in the name of the Allaspark have you _done?"_

The human soldiers spread out a bit, most of them aiming their weapons at any and all Quintessons. Verity approached one of the slabs. "My god," she said, eyes widening.

Computer banks lined three of the four walls, Scientists huddled up against them. The fourth wall had four slabs jutting out of them, each one with a monitor hanging above it. On the slabs lay the barely-recognizable bodies of four Autobots; Ironhide, Ratchet, Brawn and Prowl. Killed in 2005, their bodies had been placed in the Autobot Mausoleum for their eternal rest, at least until the Quintessons had raided it to partially resurrect Optimus Prime and turn him against his friends. During those events, the Mausoleum and all interred there had thought to be lost – until now.

Impactor slowly walked up to one of the slabs and looked down on the inert form of Ironhide. His optics were burning a bright crimson, and his mouth was peeled back in rage. He turned to the Scientists near the computer banks and his shoulder-mounted plasma cannon twitched. He slowly walked over to them, his hook-hand spinning. "Get the _Rough and Ready_ on the horn. I need Brainstorm and Mainframe down here and I need them here yesterday. I also need a real-time connection to Iacon. And finally, get me something or some _one_ to skewer."

* * *

 _Iacon, the High Council Pavilions_

Optimus Prime, Elita One, Kup, Jazz, Silverbolt and Ultra Magnus all gathered together in the Main Council Chamber, the heart of the Autobot government. Optimus Prime glanced up towards a viewscreen mounted in the far wall as he sat down. "Any more news?"

Elita One shook her head. "Just what we know before; that it has to do with Impactor's raid behind Quintesson lines." She looked across the table to Ultra Magnus. "What _did_ your informant tell you about where Impactor went?"

Ultra Magnus held up a hand. "I told Impactor all my informant told me. I wouldn't hold anything back and risk endangering anyone's functioning." He leaned back. "Although this time he _was_ rather cryptic. All he gave me were the coordinates of the solar system the base was at and that it was something we _needed_ to find."

Any further discussion was cut off as the viewscreen brightened, quickly resolving itself into a staticky image. Impactor dominated the center of the screen, blocking out most of the background. To Impactor's left stood the scientists Brainstorm and Mainframe. The pair was huddled together and quietly conversing amongst themselves.

Impactor's optics brightened. " _We transmitting, Push-Button? We are, okay. Iacon, this is Impactor. Copy?"_

Jazz spoke up. "We read you, Impactor. Maybe not too clearly, but sure as heck loudly. What's the 411 on your little party?"

Impactor glanced behind him and spoke. _"Sorry to dredge up bad memories, but I have to ask."_ He looked forward once more. _"Optimus, you remember four years ago, when the Quintessons stole you from the Mausoleum and partially rebuilt you?"_

Optimus's optics brightened. "I... remember, Impactor, when they used me in death to harm those I loved in life. What are you..." He leaned back as the full implication of Impactor's question hit him. He slowly rose, clenched a fist and _slammed_ it into the table, denting it. "By the Allspark, they didn't!"

Impactor bowed his head and stepped aside. Brainstorm and Mainframe stepped forward, but the four slabs and their occupants were visible to all. The two scientists exchanged a glance before Brainstorm finally began speaking. _"T-the Quintessons took the bodies of Ironhide, Prowl, Ratchet and Brawn when they m-modified you. It appears they've been using them as testbeds for enhancing their Sharkticon and Allicon armies."_

Arcana, Brainstorm's Headmaster partner, continued. _"According to the datatrax we've decrypted, they were trying to replicate Ironhide's armor and Brawn's strength. They were using Ratchet's vast medical database to try and glean weaknesses in our chassis, and Prowl's battle computers and tactical simulators were being run through simulated battles and maneuvers."_

Ultra Magnus finally spoke up. "What's their condition?"

Mainframe turned around and walked up to the foot of the slabs. _"Well, there's good news and bad news. All four of their laser cores have been restarted and are working stably. Prowl's been completely repaired and his brain module's functioning at one hundred percent. Ratchet, too, is in similar shape, although he's in deep stasis lock. Ironhide and Brawn, however, are not doing so well. Their autonomous functions are working properly, but beyond autonomic functions, their brain modules have been in cold shutdown for nearly six years, and their bodies have undergone extensive and almost brutal testing. They're alive, but I'm not sure when they'll go online again, if ever."_

Kup slowly shook his head. "Just as heinous as before. I swear, I'm getting too old for this."

Optimus sat back down, hunched over the table. "Impactor, how much has survived?"

Impactor straightened up. _"The squidheads were trying to purge their computers when we broke in, but we stopped them dead in their deleting. Mainframe and Brainstorm think they can recover just about everything. As for their victims, we should be able to get them to Cybertron."_

"And the Quintessons?"

Impactor stared straight ahead. _"No survivors among them, Optimus. They put up a fierce resistance and we had no choice but to use lethal force. A... shame about it."_

Kup's optic sensors narrowed. "Kid, I'm old, but not even I'm that old."

Optimus slowly sat back down. "We'll save that for later, Kup. We have more pressing issues at hand. Impactor, is it safe to transport them back to Cybertron?" At his nod, Optimus glanced to the others sitting there. "Any objections or concerns?"

Jazz spoke up. "Probably not a good idea to leave the Quintessons anything to salvage. Take anything that's not screwed down, then get screwdrivers, crowbars and cutting torches for anything that _is_."

Elita One crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "I also suggest orbital bombardment after they've pulled out, just to make sure there's nothing left for them." She looked over at the others. "Any objections?"

At their silence and shakes of their heads, Optimus focused on the viewscreen. "Very well, then. Impactor, your first priority is the Quintessons' victims. After that, any data storage device, computer, sensor or whatever. Get everything that you can. After that, leave them nothing to salvage. But above all else, Impactor, bring them home." He looked to his right. "And Ultra Magnus, I'd have a talk with your informant if I were you."

* * *

Here's another prequel/side-story to 'The Elements of Harmony and the Savior of Worlds'. :) Thanks to Space Battles forum member IRUn for the idea and permission to write.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the little things for Prowl that made him stop and stare as he made his way through Polyhex. Six months of being back from the Allspark had done little to quench his wonder at the new Golden Age for his people. Civilians walked or drove about, most of them barely-armed. Buildings had been rebuilt. The streets no longer were more hole than steel. He glanced up at Wolf 359, the star Cybertron now orbited, and marveled at the light shining down on him and the others. He stopped in front of a roadside pub, bought himself a tumbler of high-grade energon and listened for a few minutes at the talk of political elections.

"Hey, Prowl!"

Prowl's head shot up and over. His tactical systems kicked in for a moment, and he reached for his acid-pellet rifle, but he quickly identified the voice. He turned as his old friends Bluestreak, Trailbreaker, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker walked over. His neutral expression softened. "Hey, guys," he said, shaking Bluestreak's proffered hand.

Sunstreaker slapped him on the back. "Good to see you up and about and not moping about Kimia. Where are you off to on this fine Polyhex afternoon?"

Prowl smiled wanly. "I was gonna take a shuttle up to Kimia for my appointment with Rung, then visit Ironhide, Brawn and Ratchet."

Sideswipe leaned over and smacked Sunstreaker upside his head. "Brilliant, bro."

Sunstreaker flinched slightly, but took most of the blow. "Okay, I deserve that one." He looked to Prowl. "Sorry about that. Seriously, how are doing?"

"I'm fine, I think. At least that's what Optimus, Elita, Ultra Magnus, Rung and about a dozen others have been telling me." His gaze drifted as a small group of Autobots walked by, chatting away.

Trailbreaker followed Prowl's line of sight. "Yeah, it's still a little weird to be seeing civilians on Cybertron, but Primus I'm glad it's like this nowadays." He reached out and gently squeezed Prowl's shoulder. "Do you need to talk? Do you need anything from us?"

Prowl placed his hand over Trailbreaker's. "I'm fine, thank you. But I really do have to be going to catch the next shuttle. I'll comm you three later tonight, okay?" And with that, he turned and walked off.

* * *

The session with Rung had been mostly the same. They talked about what he had done the past week, how he felt about being used by the Quintessons as a tool of destruction, what his plans were. As usual, Prowl's spirits had been lifted by the session. And as usual, he wandered down to Room 127 of the Kimia Medical Facility, in downtown Iacon. There lay Ironhide, Ratchet, and Brawn, hooked to to a myriad of machines that monitored them and kept their vital functions going.

Prowl looked his friends over. "Hi," he finally said, taking a seat. "Well, the session with Rung went well. We talked about the same things as last time. Not much to fill him in on for the week, and he told me that all the plans I made weren't my fault. That I couldn't have known." His optics drifted down. "I think I'm starting to believe him, if only a little. I still don't know if those damned Quints left some sort of booby trap in my head."

He looked back up. "It's so odd, being here on Cybertron and it being peaceful. And I don't mean some false peace, or a dictatorship. I mean _peace_. The 'Cons have no way of attacking us here, of getting past our fleet." He paused. "We have a fleet. When did we get a _fleet_? When did all this happen? Hot Rod became Rodimus Prime for a year, then the Quintessons brought back Optimus Prime and he took back over. Refugees have come back. Vector Sigma's active again and hot spots and this whole thing about merging energies from laser cores and..." He trailed off.

"I'm sorry. It's just so overwhelming sometimes. We got ambushed by Megatron on that Unicron-damned shuttle, then I wake up here. And it's almost all over. And it doesn't feel real. I'm not sure it ever will. The Great War is over, so what do we do with the new Golden Age?"

Noise from behind caught Prowl's attention. He turned as Chromia, Ironhide's Conjunx Endura, walked in. He stood up. "Hi, Chromia. Sorry, I'll be heading out."

Chromia shook her head. "What? No, no. Please stay, Prowl. There's no need for you to leave." She walked up to Ironhide's bed. "I'm sure they'd want you to stay."

Prowl shook his head. "Thank you, Chromia, but I was planning on leaving anyway. I've got some thinking to do." With that, he turned and headed for the door.

Chromia turned back and grabbed Prowl's arm. "It's difficult, I know. Even for us who've lived through it, the changes these past four solar cycles have been immense. And we veterans have all had each other to rely on. Don't try to go it alone, Prowl. You've got friends."

Prowl stood there for a long moment. He turned his head and looked at Chromia over his shoulder. "I know, Chromia. I know. I guess sometimes I forget to bring that file up on occasion." He reached back and briefly grabbed Chromia's forearm. "Thank you." And with that, he left.

* * *

" _Rung, status report, please."_

Rung, the Autobot's head psychiatrist, glanced up from his rereading of the notes he took during Prowl's latest session. A small hologram of Optimus Prime's head and shoulders hovered above his desk. "Hello, Optimus. I've been expecting you." He glanced back down at his notes. "I think he's mostly over any lingering guilt concerning his actions while under the Quintesson's control, but there's still some there. Considering his ordeal, Prowl's made excellent progress and is adjusting, if slowly, to post-War life."

Optimus' head bowed. _"I had the same feelings when they used me. As for the changes, yes. It was overwhelming for me, and I had only been dead for a solar cycle. A lot's changed."_

Rung nodded. "It was expected. He _is_ a bit confused about all the changes that happened over the past four years, and he's still concerned about there being some lingering shell program or failsafe doomsday device still installed in him." He vented some gas. "As insane as it might sound, the Quintessons using him like that forced them _not_ to tamper with his brain module any more than necessary. They needed it intact and functioning. There's no shell program, no set of hidden instructions or recessed pockets of cosmic rust in his door wings."

Rung paused and looked over his notes once more. "I think he wants to return to duty, to do something other than come here for sessions and visit the others, but those last bits of guilt are holding him back."

Even through the hologram, even through the faceplate, Optimus' expression could be read plain as day. His optics drifted down and narrowed. _"The Quintessons will answer for their crimes, I swear by the Matrix and my laser core. They will answer._ " He looked back up. _"Thank you for all you've done to help Prowl, Rung. I'll contact you after his next session."_

Rung leaned forward and peered at the image. "There's still a lot of work to do, Optimus. I don't want to rush things with Prowl."

" _Neither do I, but I still have the kernel of an idea to help him along. Do you think he'd object to a low-level appointment in Intelligence?"_

Rung tapped his fingers on his desk. "I'll run it by him next session." A chime sounded out in the room. "Oh, scrap. I'm sorry, Optimus, but my next appointment is here. I'll talk to you later." He cut the transmission and tapped the intercom. "Come in, please." He stood up as the door slid open and his next patient walked in. "Hello, Roadbuster. How are you?"

* * *

Prowl stood in his apartment, a sparse set of rooms on the third floor of a building in downtown Polyhex. His optics glanced to a set of holo-pictures of him and his human friend, Chip Chase, one of the only bits of personality breaking up one of the steel-gray walls. He slowly tore his gaze away from them and focused on a large viewscreen embedded in the wall. For the first time since he had woken up on the _Rough and Ready_ , for the first time since he had learned what the Quintessons had done to him and the others, he activated his tactical analysis subroutines and went over his current situation.

The viewscreen came to life. Prowl inputted a series of numbers into a keypad on the screen. A few seconds later, Trailbreaker appeared on it. _"Hey, Prowl! What's up? Are you all right?"_

Prowl hesitated. He recalled the conversation with Chromia. "I don't know, Trailbreaker, but I think I could use some company. If you're busy – "

Trailbreaker's head bobbed down for a moment. Other windows opened up and Bluestreak, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's upper body appeared in them. _"Ready to paint the town?"_ Sunstreaker asked.

Prowl slowly smiled. "Not sure about that, but if you're not busy, could you come over, and perhaps, we could go out, even just to process the code? I think I'd like to see some friends tonight."

The three laughed and cheered. Bluestreak pointed right at him. _"That's the spirit, Prowl. We'll be over in a flash!"_ His window closed, followed by Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

Trailbreaker's remained open. _"Prowl, anything... wrong?"_

Prowl shook his head. "Not as much, Trailbreaker. I think I've finally come to the conclusion that I can't get through this alone, but I _can_ get through it with friends." He reached out to cut the connection. "I'll see you in a bit, and thank you."


End file.
